‘Okay.’ She nodded.
‘I’ll let you off the hook for tonight, but next time, plan to be here for the night. Pack a bag. You can leave some stuff here, if you want. It’ll be more intensive, too, so better value for money – more bang for your buck, as it were,’ he said, with a lopsided smile. ‘We need to spend more time together before and after because it’s not all about the act itself. You need to own your sexuality. That way you can get used to undressing in front of me and being naked around me. We can shower together – maybe have sex in the shower…’
Her breath hitched at the thought of having sex with him in the shower.
‘Unless you’d like to start now?’ He raised an eyebrow and smiled crookedly at her.
‘Um…’ She was really tempted, but she didn’t want him to know she had been lying. ‘I really am meeting someone.’
‘Okay. But you’re on board with the plan?’
‘Yes. But… should I pay you more? I mean, if I’m going to be staying over…’
‘No. You’re already paying me more than enough for something I’d do for free anyway. I don’t want you to pay me more, but I want you to put more effort into it.’
God, she hadn’t had a ‘must try harder’ lecture since she was at school. (Actually, she’d never had a lecture like this at school – she’d always been a diligent pupil.)
‘I tried,’ she protested, waving in the general direction of his groin, ‘but you wouldn’t let me.’
‘I’m not talking about touching my dick or getting me off,’ he snapped. ‘I want you to try harder to have a bit of courage, to have more faith in yourself. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘Now, do you want me to give you some privacy while you get dressed?’ The look he gave her was a challenge.
She swallowed hard. ‘N-no.’ Taking a deep breath, she dropped the duvet and stood up. ‘I’ll get dressed in the bathroom,’ she said, standing before him naked and forcing herself to hold his gaze with a huge effort of will.
She was rewarded with a pleased smile – he looked almost proud of her. It made it easier for her that he didn’t drop his eyes from hers, and she was grateful.
‘You know where it is,’ he said, and she walked at a normal pace from the room. It wasn’t much, but at least she didn’t break into a run. It was a start.
13
Slave To Love
Mr Bossy is a dominant, and though I don’t think of myself as a submissive, I do have a strong desire to submit when I’m with him. There’s something about him that makes me want to obey; to serve and please him. I crave his praise. When he tells me I’m a ‘good girl’, the words alone are almost enough to make me come.
So yesterday we’re out in his car, tootling along in the fast lane, surrounded by other Sunday drivers, when he asks me to take off my knickers. Well, he doesn’t ask really – it’s more of an order than a request. So I do as I’m told, eager to please. I’m totally his bitch, and I don’t even care. I’m already excited as I wriggle them off under my skirt and toss them into the footwell.
‘Show me,’ he says. ‘Lift up your skirt.’
I look around, not sure I can do it. We’re on a busy road – there are cars whizzing by on both sides.
‘No one can see,’ he says, understanding my anxiety, and I realise it’s true. Other drivers can only see my top half. No one will know if I’m naked from the waist down. ‘Show me,’ he coaxes again, in that commanding voice of his.
So I grab the hem of my skirt and pull it up slowly, teasing him, finally bunching it up around my waist and turning in the seat to give him a full visual. He takes his eyes off the road for a second to glance over at me, and his little gasp is gratifying.
‘Spread your legs,’ he says, and I scooch down a little in my seat and spread myself open. I tell you, I’m like a little puppy that’s aced obedience school around this guy. If he told me to roll over and play dead, I’d probably do it.
He takes one hand off the wheel and reaches over to grope me a little. ‘You’re so wet already,’ he says, as he strokes me. ‘Does this game excite you?’
‘Yes,’ I whisper. My voice is shaky as his fingers work me and I feel myself getting wetter.
‘Good girl,’ he says, as he withdraws his fingers. He sticks them in his mouth, sucking absentmindedly. ‘Do you need to come?’ he asks, as he places his hand back on the wheel, and I feel bereft.
‘Yes,’ I gasp. I sound like I’m choking.
‘I’d like to do that for you, but I have to concentrate on the road,’ he says, giving me a wicked smile. ‘Put your feet up on the dash and touch yourself.’
